Dear Prudence

A couple of years ago my eldest son had a conversation with his baseball coach, during which the coach commented that he had spent his entire life – 35 years, so far – in suburban Minneapolis, interrupted only by the occasional weekend trip to Las Vegas. 

My son’s first thought was, “Geez, Dear Prudence has lived more places than my coach has seen.”

Dear Prudence (that was her full name, thanks to The Beatles White Album, and we used all of it, both words, often) came into our lives in a time of transition. Maximilian was moving to Europe. Alexander was headed off to college. And Octavia was moving from Minnesota to California with my wife and me.

Dear Prudence was not only a companion in the traditional canine sense, but also a child, a sister, an aging parent, and a friend and confidante.

During her all-too-brief but full and adventurous and generous life, she lived in St. Paul, Los Feliz, Valencia, Davidson, and Portland. She climbed mountains, swam in and drank gallons from the Pacific Ocean, fished the Yellowstone River much to the trouts’ dismay, and drove across America – twice.

Sure, she vomited on rainy nights and peed on rugs and pooped in the wrong places and terrorized anyone who rang the doorbell and ate many uncanine things off the countertops.

Yet, when she chased a ball she made me wish I had that kind of passion and focus in my own life. I’d be better and more successful for it.

Mostly, she loved. For nearly 13 years and now beyond. Hers was the kind of love that is eternal.

I’m grateful for her.

And I feel bad for the baseball coach.

A donation was made in Dear Prudence's memory and the memorial was created on June 23, 2020.